Fly Fish
by SketchyJawa
Summary: A new transfer student signs up as the new guitarist in the band, but Mr. Shuester thinks there may be a little more to this rocker than his fast fingers. Eventual OC/Brittany pairing...probably: Don't want to spoil the ending.


This is my first Glee story (and only second story in general). I know original characters aren't everybody's cup of tea, and that's cool. I hope you give it a shot nonetheless, as this story will involve all the series' regulars in some fashion or another. I'm mostly sticking to canon; however, this story starts up about a month after the current school year begins (Season 2), and is sandwiched between "Grilled Cheesus" and "Duets," episodes 3 and 4 respectively. (No pun intended on the sandwich/grilled cheesus. Honestly.) I intend for this to be at least several chapters, barring poor reviews or no reviews at all. So if you like it, please let me know in a quick review to keep me going. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.

Obligatory duh disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Glee.

* * *

"Ms. Pillsbury, I'd like you to meet Mr. Cameron Fisher, our new eleventh grade transfer student." To Cameron's amusement, Principal Figgins enunciated every syllable, so it sounded like a robot's name or a planet from Star Wars: Kam-Er-Ron.

Standing in Figgins' office, Emma Pillsbury smiled her conservative, but genuine smile and extended a petite hand out to Cameron. "Oh I know, I just read your file. It's great to put a face with the name." She paused and explained awkwardly, "There's a picture of you in your file. I meant a _real _face." Cameron smiled and took her hand. Emma tilted her head a little, and she smiled up at him clearly in sympathy.

Cameron nodded, still smiling "Yep. You definitely read my file."

Emma's eyebrows came together in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't under-"

"That's the look I get from people who've read my file. Kinda happens every time."

Figgins looked between them and finally said with a smile, "I have no idea what you're both talking about. Now, Ms. Pillsbury, why don't you take Mr. Fisher here for a quick tour before first period?"

Emma smiled and nodded. "Sure. Shall we?"

Cameron opened the glass door for her. "Lead on."

Emma, with Cameron in tow, made her way through the bustling main hallway of McKinley High, occasionally squeaking out a meek "pardon me" here and a timid "excuse me" there. Apparently having reached her destination, she stopped and spun around to face Cameron. "And here we have our Extracurricular Activities Bulletin Board, and I _so _encourage you to get involved in some way, Cameron. It's just a wonderful way to forge new, potentially life-long friendships and to really _tap_…" Emma Pillsbury clenched a small fist and squinted her eyes in emphasis as she continued, "into the lifeblood of McKinley High. To be a real part of the school. "

Cameron nodded noncommittally down to the chipper, wide-eyed guidance counselor, who was easily a foot and some change shorter than him. His eyes danced over all the posts tacked to the bulletin board and then focused on one particular sign-up sheet. He raised one eyebrow and asked, "What's a _celibacy_ club?"

"Oh. Well..." Emma paused, gathering her thoughts. "Celibacy is the voluntary choice to abstain from-"

The ghost of a smile appeared on Cameron's lips. "No, Ma'am. I know what celibacy is. I just don't get why you'd want to celebrate it in weekly get-togethers."

"Oh, no no no. It's a terrific and essential support structure for teenagers who are constantly bombarded with temptation in today's world to share their frustrations and re-affirm their commitment to remain wholesome and unsoiled by the act of loveless and therefore meaningless sexual congress."

Cameron smirked, letting out a chuckle and a sarcastic "Right…" Emma just stared up at him wordlessly. Cameron's smirk vanished. _Oh my God. She's serious._ Cameron cleared his throat and repeated, this time in earnest, "_Right_. Gotcha. Sounds perfect-" Lowering his voice and returning his attention to the bulletin board, he added, "-ly awful."

Not catching his addendum, Emma smiled her perky, little smile. "So you think you might be interested in joining?"

"There's…really no need, Ms. Pillsbury. I'm practically a card carrying member as it is. Albeit, an _involuntary_ one who's ready to feed that card to a shredder as soon as the right opportunity presents itself…or herself really." He smiled down at her. Emma just pursed her lips and looked away briefly, clearly not amused and a bit uncomfortable, if the sudden pink hue of her cheeks was any indication. Cameron lost the smile and bit his lip absently as he pretended to peruse the sign-up sheets once more. It wasn't the first time he found himself forgetting who his audience was and letting slip some attempt at a witty remark or joke at the expense of social decorum. It wouldn't be the last.

Emma regained her composure and smiled up at Cameron. "Well. Good talk. I'll leave you to it. But if you have any questions or concerns or…or issues of any kind, you know where my office is."

Actually, he didn't, since she'd met him in the principal's office, but he didn't see the point in further flustering her by bringing it up. "Yes, Ma'am. I 'preciate it." He gave her a tight, little smile.

She nodded and returned the tight smile. "Well okay then. I hope you have a wonderful first week. And get out there and make some friends." She awkwardly raised the clenched fist again to encourage him. Cameron half-heartedly held up his own fist in acknowledgment. As she backed away, Emma nodded once more and called out, "Remember to pick an activity." She pointed at the board beside him. "The last thing you want to be is invisible. _Especially _in high school." And with that she whirled around and headed down the crowded hallway with short, swift steps.

Eyeing the board yet again, Cameron muttered under his breath to nobody, "I dunno. Not all attention's the good kind. _Especially _in high school_._" As if right on cosmically coincidental cue, Cameron's shoulders instinctively jumped at the loud crash behind him. He craned his neck to see what had to have been the aftermath of a husky, probably football player in a letterman jacket slamming a much smaller, probably _not_ football player into a row of lockers. The jock didn't even say a word as he continued marching bullishly down the hallway as if nothing had happened. The receiver of the violent shove was another story altogether.

Kurt sat on the floor with his sore back against the locker into which he'd just been flung. He shut his eyes and willed the pain to fade. Not so much the physical pain. With a defeated sigh, he opened his eyes to find someone he'd never laid eyes on before towering over him. With understandable instinct, Kurt flinched.

"Whoa. Relax, bud. Here." Cameron extended an open hand down to a still unsettled Kurt. Kurt focused on the outstretched hand with long but slender fingers then raised his eyes to fully take in the stranger. First: he was _tall_. Even with his ass firmly planted on the hallway floor, Kurt could see that. And his entire body was lean, bordering on lanky. A pair of well-worn blue jeans covered long legs that ended in proportionately large feet encased in red Converse tennis shoes. He wore a black Megadeth T-shirt featuring the colorful antics of the band's ghoulish mascot, Vic Rattlehead (not that Kurt had any clue about this), over a simple gray sweatshirt, with rolled up sleeves.

Even in his flustered state, the first coherent thought to run through Kurt's mind was this guy was a walking fashion disaster. Continuing the appraisal up past the neckline, Kurt saw two deep blue eyes, framed by a lean face with a short, but curly/messy mop of raven black hair on top. A matching scruffy, not-fully-formed goatee (mustache and soul-patch, really) marred what Kurt quickly decided was an otherwise rather striking, handsome face, and it made him resemble some kind of disheveled modern-day Musketeer. For the briefest of seconds, Kurt was excited to see one small, simple golden hoop earring in Cameron's right ear…but then he quickly noticed the matching one in his left.

The expression on Cameron's face was remarkably…unremarkable. Neutral, really. Kurt immediately appreciated the complete absence of pity in those blue eyes and took the offered hand. Well, there had to be _some _muscle hidden under his atrocious attire, because Cameron whisked Kurt up to his feet in one fluid motion.

Kurt almost whispered in an effeminate voice, "Thank you, kind sir."

Cameron replied in a slight but unmistakable Southern accent, "Yeah. You got it." He then gave Kurt a slight nod and tight almost-grin, before walking back across the hall to the bulletin board. The gesture made Kurt think of John Wayne or some other old-school cowboy tipping his hat in a silent "you're welcome" mannerism. Sparing a glance at the clock, Kurt wandered over to stand beside Cameron, eyeing him up and down with narrowed eyes. "Let's take a stab at this, shall we? Basketball player?"

Cameron didn't miss a beat and shook his head without looking at him. "Horse jockey."

Kurt immediately laughed, and Cameron glanced his way with a smirk. "I'm Cameron Fisher." He offered his hand again. Kurt took it gingerly and smiled. "Kurt Hummel. A pleasure." Cameron's eyes drifted over Kurt's shoulder down the hall, nodding once. "So. What was that all about?" Kurt reflexively shot a look over his shoulder, momentarily afraid that Karofsky had returned for an encore performance. After a long drawn out breath, he replied, "Oh you know. Same old story. If you dare to stray away from the herd and express the faintest bit of individuality, the barbarians with their primeval brains feel compelled to beat it out of you and throw you back in line. I mean, how _dare_ I think differently? _Feel_ differently? If I should spread my wings and take flight, I am not met with praise and cheer, but boos and hisses. And stones and-" Kurt was beginning to work himself up into a tizzy.

Cameron scrunched his eyebrows together and cut Kurt off by clapping his arm. "Ok, ok, yeah I got it. I'm with ya. Didn't mean to get you all riled up."

Kurt took another deep breath and exhaled, composing himself. "No, I'm sorry. I just have to face that sort of unenlightened manner of thinking from the blockheaded trolls that stalk these halls every day. But that's my burden to bear." And with that, Kurt raised his head high and gave Cameron a nearly convincing satisfied smile.

Cameron nodded. "Don't worry 'bout it. You gay?"

Kurt couldn't help but be taken aback by the sheer abruptness of the question and how casually it was asked. Rarely at a loss for words, Kurt's first instinct was to be insulted, but nothing in Cameron's tone was accusatory nor was it drenched in revulsion. Holding his head high once more and with a haughty expression, Kurt replied, "As…a matter of fact I am. Do you have a problem with that?" He couldn't help but defensively ask the question. He was caught off guard and on his heels, and he didn't much care for how it felt.

Cameron, with that same look of indifference, simply shook his head. "Nope." His attention went right back to the bulletin board. "So, I'm not seein' any kinda band here. I mean there's this jazz band…" He trailed off wincing. "And _marching_ band." Eyes back to Kurt, he added, "I don't really, ya know, _march._"

Kurt blinked. Apparently the conversation regarding his sexuality, a monumental issue he struggled with day in and day out…was already over. He wrestled with that feeling of being thrown for a loop once more, but finally overcame it and found his footing. Emotionally speaking. It was jarring, but at the same time: refreshing. Rolling with the punches, Kurt let the issue drop and moved on with Cameron to this new topic. "Okaaaay. Well, what sort of band are you looking for? I mean, what do you play? Cowbell? Jug? Banjo?"

Cameron chuckled at that. "Guitar. Acoustic and electric. I can play bass, but I'm more partial to lead."

Kurt returned a genuine smile. "Oh, well, they play all of those and more in the jazz band." He then clasped his hands together and broadened his smile. "And if you joined jazz band, we'd practically see each other everyday." Noting Cameron's slight tilting of his head, Kurt continued, "I'm in Glee club, and the jazz band works for us."

Cameron narrowed his eyes and smiled a little sideways. "_For_ you?"

Kurt's eyes remained wide and so did his smile. "_With._ Did I say for? Silly me, they work _with_ us."

"Uh huh. Yeah, while I appreciate every kinda music to some degree, I'm not so much jazzy as I am…rocky?"

"Mmm hmm. Yes, I surmised that from your grotesque Mega-deth is it? T-shirt." Kurt paused. "Which I can only assume is some metal band that measures their musical success by how many ear-splitting decibels they can achieve and destroys their instruments in celebration after every other performance. And, I'm sorry, but I really feel compelled to tell you that black T-shirts with any sort of graphic, especially album covers, really don't work for you. Or anyone, for that matter."

Drawing his eyebrows together, Cameron looked down at Kurt's subject of ridicule on his chest. Defensively, he uttered a weak, "But that's Vic Rattlehead."

"Giving it a name, while cute, doesn't make it any less ghastly. But moving on: have you _tried_ playing anything besides head-banging noise? Music. Sorry."

Cameron shrugged. "Oh yeah. Classic rock, Southern rock, alternative rock, contemporary rock, 60's-"

Kurt held up a hand, cutting him off. "I see. That's quite the um diverse repertoire you have there, Cameron. However, I was thinking…that…maybe…" Kurt's voice piddled out as he noticed Cameron, clearly not paying any attention to a word he was saying, slowly lean out in the hall looking past Kurt. Somewhat annoyed, Kurt looked over his shoulder, and he immediately noticed what had so suddenly captured Cameron's attention.

Two cheerleaders walked side by side down the hall, both with ponytails: one blonde, one black. The brunette with skin the color of milk chocolate eyed the blonde, who was carrying a sizable stack of textbooks in her arms. "Britt, why the hell are you _carrying_ your books?" Resting her chin on the top book, the blonde turned her head slightly to answer the question with a sad face, "I lost my backpack." The brunette frowned incredulously at her and slipped one hand between the blonde's shoulder and her empty backpack's strap, lifting it into the blonde's field of vision. The blonde's eyes went a little cross-eyed as they focused on the strap, and her lips spread slowly into a smile. "There it is. Cool."

Kurt sighed in disappointment: Rocker boy was straight as an arrow. Kurt waved a hand in Cameron's face, attempting to break him out of his hypnotic trance, caused clearly by the swishing to and fro of the Cheerios' scandalously short skirts. "Unless you plan on joining the football team, you may just as well flush those libidinous thoughts right out of your brain, mister."

Blinking, Cameron came back to this world. "Sorry, I just- wow." Kurt's eyebrows bounced up and his lips formed a "whatever" smile. But then a lightbulb went off in his head. "_Although..." _His smile grew as he regarded Cameron. "If it's any incentive, not one but _both_ of those salacious sirens are in: wait for it...Glee club."

"Huh. Wouldn't've guessed that. So Glee club's cool here?"

"Absolutely."

"Really?"

"No, not really. But you wouldn't be in the spotlight, being a member of the band. I don't think they _ever_ get slushied."

Cameron squinted, "_Slushied?_"

Kurt shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not important. What is important is you'd be able to choke some sweet, sweet music out of a guitar neck with those strong hands and fingers."

"I really don't think I've ever heard weirder slang for playing a guitar."

"_And_. You'd be able to meld that music with our amazing vocal talents." Kurt paused and added sourly, "And...you'd be able to gawk all you like at our vapid Cheerio trio, I suppose."

Cameron chuckled. "Dude, I'm not a _stalker_. And wait a minute: so yer Glee club doesn't have its own band?"

"Of course we do. The jazz band?"

"And they're just...cool with that? Firing up their instruments every time you guys come a'callin' er... singing?"

Kurt's eyes drifted around. "Well, what else would they do?"

Cameron shrugged. "I dunno: play _jazz music_?"

Kurt chuckled. "Oh that's adorable."

Cameron crunched his eyebrows together and looked off to the side, not really sure how to take that.

"So just sign your name on the Glee sheet and put out beside it: band, in parentheses." Kurt smiled in encouragement.

Cameron grabbed the pen and muttered, "Yeah, a'ight. Why the hell not?"


End file.
